


Caught Red-Assed

by chucks_prophet, winglxss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Ficlet, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Interrupting Sam Winchester, M/M, Sam's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 22:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winglxss/pseuds/winglxss
Summary: Based on Jared's comment at Jibcon about wanting to do an episode entitled "The Milk Run", not involving Sam at all - only Dean and Cas and there would be "a lot of BDSM".This is what Bri and I envisioned. (Title created by them.)





	Caught Red-Assed

"Guys," Sam announces, jogging down the flight of stairs, two gallons of milk supporting each hand, "I'm back— _finally_. Who knew cows could be so stubborn? I had to go to ten different stores because nine of them were out of milk. Completely. I mean, seriously, how—?"

He drops the milk on the bottom step as Dean’s scream assaults his ears. He whips out his gun on pure instinct. "Dean?!" he yells back. No response. His heart may as well be its own weapon of mass destruction for how rapidly it's slamming into his ribcage.

He pads quietly but quickly to the study room. Nothing. Not even a fallen book. Then to the library. He checks behind every shelf and underneath every table and hidden crevice like he's back in Scooby Doo.

A second scream shakes the Bunker.

Sam ducks behind the frame of the study room. It's coming from the war room. It has to be. But who—or what—could have possibly broken in while Dean and Cas were holding down the fort?

Gripping his gun as he takes a breath, Sam steadies himself. He's taken on Lucifer, for Christ's literal sake. He can take down whatever monster has Dean.

In one swift move, he leaps from behind the frame, aiming his gun at the supernatural intruder.

Only, he finds he's the real intruder when he drinks in the right before him.

There's Dean, ass bare as the moon on a Werewolf's High Noon, against the war room table. Next to him is Cas—clothed all but his white shirt, tie, and blazer—gripping a whip.

Dean has his head craned, face white as his knuckles gripping the table. Cas, on the other hand, has his eyebrows raised at Sam, but in more exasperation than surprise.

"Right." Sam tucks his gun in his back belt and just as slowly backs away. "I'll just... put the groceries away. You two just... continue... milking it. I mean—I don’t know what I mean, actually. I’m just gonna… yeah."

 

 

_The next morning:_

Sam saunters into the kitchen the next morning, rubbing in the static trapped in the thick, unintentional tresses of his hair. The only thing on his mind is a cup of coffee. Tea’s just not strong enough to counteract the unease weighing heavy on his bones.

“Sam.”

Sam cranes his head to find Dean staring into the fridge like he’s found Narnia in the back of it with the leftover pepperoni pizza. “What?” he gripes, downing his espresso in one flick of his wrist. He hates how okay Dean looks right now. He’s actually _glowing._ The only time Sam’s seen his brother glowing, aside from his cowboy fetish—which clearly transcends the fetish label—is when he’s almost been smited by an angel.

Sam slams his cup on the counter. Dean narrows his eyes before gesturing back to the fridge with the hand not holding a dry bowl of cereal. “Where’s the milk?”

“Did you check the bottom of the stairs?”

“Why did you leave the milk at the bottom of the stairs?”

“I don’t know, Dean, why did you feel the need to get freaky in the war room?”

Dean closes the fridge with a sigh. Sam honestly expects more of a reaction from Dean. But his stone-cold sober expression—a rare look on the face of Dean Winchester—suggests he’s actually _okay_ with his sexuality. Maybe even a bit proud. In fact, with the way they’re staring at each other, Sam’s half-expecting them to have an Old West showdown right here. No doubt Dean would enjoy that. But not more than being Kevin Bacon’s stunt double in _Animal House._

 “I don’t know,” Dean mimics, “what compelled you to go to 10 different stores to find milk?”

Sam throws his head back. “Necessity, Dean. We needed milk.”

“Exactly.”

Not until Dean winks in turning to open the fridge again does Sam’s face shed whatever color was left. He can’t even muster the will to question or voice his concern when Dean takes out a Corona and pours that into his bowl instead. He strides out of the kitchen, leaving Sam to stand there and guffaw.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam rolls his eyes before greeting Cas, who too makes a pit stop for the fridge. “Hey Ca—”

And would you look at that (or don’t… preferably don’t): Cas isn’t wearing anything _but_ his trench coat.

One thing’s for sure: Sam’s never going on a milk run ever again.


End file.
